


Seeing Angels

by Shadow_Side



Category: Heroes - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Side/pseuds/Shadow_Side
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lost and conflicted, Nathan calls for help… and finds it in an unexpected source. [Setting: Heroes – Post-3x15, Supernatural – Post-4x10]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Angels

It was late.

Or was it early? Nathan wasn't sure anymore. He'd been at the window for some time, staring out at New York, watching day blend to night, and night to… darker night. It seemed appropriate.

To start off with, his thoughts had been very conflicted; very layered and turbulent. Too full of images to allow him even a moment of mental silence. Over and over, he kept on remembering the events which remained too fresh in his mind. Too raw. His memories were lit by a pair of bright headlights, a flurry of laser scopes, and the strange, broken fury which had shone in his brother's eyes.

An outside observer might have thought that he was obsessing over… what he supposed constituted quite a failure. Which was not a word he enjoyed using; now more so than ever. And whilst it was true that he was dwelling on it… it wasn't the first thing that came to mind. Oh no. The first thing that came to mind, every time, was the moment in which he'd wondered if Noah Bennett was going to shoot Peter.

He hadn't, of course. Deliberately so – which was something Nathan would not forget. But the experience had still left such profound disquiet in its wake. It had reminded him, again, of the gulf between them. The sudden, dreadful chasm that their father's death had created.

Nathan wondered if the man would have cared. Or, in fact, been pleased. Sometimes he wished he knew. Sometimes he was glad he didn't.

He sighed, resting an arm against the window frame, leaning in close to the glass. Beyond it, reality stubbornly refused to change, remaining as overly-complicated as it had ever been. He was doing the right thing. He knew it. He had to know it. It was why he'd gone into politics. To make the hard choices. It was what you had to do, as a senator, a husband, a friend.

A brother.

It was a disaster. But he was set on his course now. He had to be. He couldn't go back. He had to see this through, get it done, prove that he'd made the right choice.

The question was… had he?

"You still there?" he whispered, softly, staring up at the sky. It was clear, but the city shone so brightly that there were very few stars visible. "I was so certain. And now… now I'm not anymore. Are you there? Are you listening?"

No answer was forthcoming. But that alone told him nothing. Faith was supposed to endure even in the face of answerlessness.

"I'm doing the right thing," he went on, hoping this might at least make himself sure of it again. "I'm doing what's best for this country. This world." He paused, moving his gaze from the sky before he spoke again. "This family."

"What you are doing sets brother against brother, Nathan," came a quiet voice from behind him. "And that is never for the best."

Nathan turned at once, adrenaline rushing through his blood. He'd been alone for hours. The door was locked. No one could get in. Not unless they could teleport, or walk through walls… both of which were entirely possible. But not good news.

There was another man in the room with him – a man he did not recognise. He was fairly tall, light-skinned and dark-haired, dressed in a long, pale coat, and staring at Nathan with piercing eyes. The very sight of him filled Nathan with a strangely complex mix of emotions… fear and awe and hope and danger. He wondered why. He was certain he'd never seen the man before.

"How the hell did you get in here?" Nathan demanded. He was instantly defensive. He had to be. The sort of person who _could_ get in here was far more likely to wish him ill than any of the other possibilities.

"That doesn't matter," the intruder replied.

"It matters a great deal," said Nathan. "So tell me. Teleportation? Phasing?"

That made the intruder smile a little. But only for a second. "Neither and both," he answered. "I'm not what you think."

People who didn't answer questions were both worrying and irritating in equal measure. Nathan folded his arms, staring at his highly unexpected and uninvited guest. "Who are you?"

"My name is Castiel."

One answer, at least. Truth was an entirely different question, however.

"What do you want?"

"We need to talk." No smile this time, and the look in the intruder… in _Castiel's_ … eyes remained just as intense.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because you asked."

"Well, of course I asked, but I want-"

"No, Nathan, you misunderstand," said Castiel, holding up a hand and, amazingly, making Nathan fall silent. "I mean that you raised your eyes to Heaven, and you _asked_."

"I… what, so you were sent here by _God_?" Nathan said, tone implying – quite correctly – that he didn't believe a word of it. "Please. I know about people like u- you. Whatever ability or abilities you're using, it would be easier if you just told me."

"You think I'm one of you?" Castiel asked, taking a step forward – which in turn made Nathan want to take a step _back_. And, being right against the window, he couldn't. "Far from it."

"Then _what_ are you?" Nathan demanded, a little shortly.

And regretted it at once. Regretted it because Castiel became suddenly… radiant, shadowed from behind by something not quite tangible. And his eyes… the look in his eyes would haunt Nathan for weeks, perhaps forever. There were things there that no _Human_ was meant to see.

"I am an Angel of the Lord," Castiel said, and though his tone seemed as if it should be soft, every word was resonant, taking up residence in Nathan's mind and never fading.

Nathan tried not to look more unnerved than he ever had in his life, but he suspected that unfolding his arms and pressing his hands against the glass behind him – to keep himself upright – probably spoke volumes. But… maybe that didn't matter. Maybe Castiel knew anyway.

The moment passed, leaving reality as it had seemed before. Castiel… looked as he had done when Nathan first turned to see him, but only in a physical sense. Could this… might all this be true?

"Why are you here?" Nathan asked, his own voice soft now.

"How would you like me to answer that? Metaphysically? Philosophically? Doctrinally?"

"Honestly," said Nathan. "If you are… as you say you are… then there must be…" He froze suddenly, unable to work his mind around this, especially when more thoughts kept intruding. "Am I dead?"

Castiel merely stared at him. "Far from it. And we need to keep it that way."

"Why?"

"That… is complicated," said the other man. Angel. Was he really an angel? "I don't want to burden you with more than you need to know."

"You appeared in my apartment and told me you're an angel," Nathan pointed out, dryly. "Surely you're already burdening me?"

"Perhaps," Castiel replied, not so much vague as… evasive? It was hard to be certain. And harder still not to feel like maybe he _didn't_ want to know. "I can tell you some of it. I am _here_ to tell you some of it."

"I'm listening," said Nathan.

Castiel gave him an arched look. "Finally. Now. Due to a series of events that I won't go into – because, I promise, you don't want me to – I am currently trying to prevent the eternal victory of Hell and thereby the destruction and damnation of all life as we know it."

Nathan stared at him, wide-eyed, not sure whether or not he could possibly believe this – but intensely taken aback by the statement either way. "I… see," he replied, though it was obvious that he didn't. "And what exactly does that entail?"

"The forces of Hell are kept at bay by six hundred and sixty-six seals," Castiel went on. "Some amazingly complex, and some so brutally simple that they seem almost pointless. As we speak, agents of the Prince of Darkness are in the process of trying to break enough of those seals to set him free. I am trying to stop them."

"…Just you?"

"Of course not. But we all have our parts to play, Nathan. You of all people should know that. Over and over you've played yours, to the detriment of those around you."

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?" Nathan demanded, a little hotly. Were all angels this… accusative?

"You know what it means," Castiel replied. "You have played your parts all your life. The supposedly loyal son. The apparently dedicated politician. The seemingly loving brother…"

"Are you questioning my motivations?"

"Aren't you? Isn't that why you've been standing at this window for hours? Isn't that why you stand at this window every night? Do you even know why you're doing what you're doing?"

Now Nathan folded his arms again, though tried to resist the urge to make his glare too obvious, in case glaring at angels was a terminally bad idea. Which he supposed it might be.

"Of course I do," Nathan insisted. "I'm doing what's best for this country."

"Do you know how many other men have said that?"

"Plenty, I'm sure. And yes, no doubt you can tell me how many of them went on to be genocidal maniacs. But every situation is different. Some of us really _are_ doing what's best."

"Spare me," Castiel retorted, dryly. "I've heard all this before, from men far wiser and greater than you. It is only a cruel twist of circumstance that lands you in this position as opposed to one of them. You are persecuting a large group of people due to the actions of a mere few. You know what that sounds like, don't you?"

"This is different." Though even as Nathan spoke those words, he knew they were hollow. All of this was. It was just… voicing in conversation the thoughts that had plagued him for weeks. But… but it was all self-doubt. Inevitable, when doing something so important. He… was doing the right thing. He was.

"It is _exactly_ the same," Castiel replied, softly. Sadly, almost, which was the first discernable emotion beyond vague annoyance that Nathan had seen him exhibit.

"Why do you even care? If… all Hell is about to break loose – literally – shouldn't you be carrying on attempting to stop it?"

"I am. Believe me, I am. It's why I'm here."

"I thought you said you were here because I somehow asked for you."

That very vague smile returned, and Castiel headtilted slightly. "You think the two aren't connected?"

"…Could you maybe try explaining what all this is about?" said Nathan.

"I am," Castiel said, again. "Pay attention. I have to stop the forces of Hell from breaking the seals holding back the Prince of Darkness. These seals… most of them are not physical objects. They are events. People. And you, Senator Petrelli, are one of them."

"… _What?_ " Nathan exclaimed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Believe me, I was as surprised as you when we worked it out."

"How can I be..? I don't…" Nathan rubbed a hand over his eyes, confused and now rather more alarmed. And about to say something he hated having to admit. "I don't understand."

"I know," replied Castiel. "You stand at a cusp, Nathan. Between becoming your father or your brother. Your father, who always demanded _more_ , or your brother, who has accepted that he doesn't need it."

"Don't bring Peter into this," Nathan said – implored? – softly.

"I'm not," Castiel replied. "He's already part of it. None of us can change that. The events that you have set in motion will lead you to a choice that only one of them would accept. And you, Nathan, you will soon be forced to choose between actions that would have seen your father disown you, or actions that _will_ see your brother disown you."

Nathan looked away for a moment, the memory of headlights and laser scopes and a gun to his head suddenly piercing his mind. "Haven't I already reached that point?" He was giving too much away in his tone. In his question. Though he suspected that none of it was news to Castiel.

"Not yet," the angel told him. "But you are drawing closer. And if brother becomes set against brother, if you _choose_ to follow Arthur's path instead of Peter's… you will be lost. And the seal will be broken."

"You're telling me that if I carry on as I am… I'll be responsible for the destruction of all life as we know it?" Not words Nathan Petrelli had ever expected – or wanted – to say.

"No," Castiel answered, his tone soft and… almost sad, now. "You might bring it a step closer… but there are plenty of ways we could still stop it. One seal is a loss, but not the literal end of the world. No. What you will be responsible for is the persecution of innocents, and the shattering of brotherhood. It's time for you to see this as it really is, Nathan… and ask yourself if it's what you really want."

"But… if my actions won't end the world… why even come to me?" Nathan asked. It was a question he couldn't quite deny, now, and it helped to cover all of the _other_ things his mind kept trying to voice.

Now Castiel smiled, lightly and subtly, but the first time he'd done so in a way that didn't look like it had a double meaning. "Because you can still be saved," he answered. "And that is always worth my time."

Such simple words. Yet they made Nathan feel like he'd been punched in the chest. He turned back to the window, unable to look the angel in the eyes, resting his arm on the window frame once more and pressing his forehead against it.

The silence was heavy, but Nathan didn't know how to break it. For a moment, he could only let it endure… and then he became suddenly aware that Castiel was behind him. Right behind him. He couldn't respond, though – not until he felt the angel lay a hand on his shoulder.

That was… strange. If he'd stopped to think about it, Nathan thought he would likely have imagined the touch of angels to be cold. Different, somehow. Not just… warm and normal.

It still made him tense a little in surprise… though, to be fair to himself, anyone doing that would have elicited the same response. Anyone… but Peter.

"You can still make this right, Nathan," Castiel said. "And he will forgive you."

"…God?"

"He will always forgive you. I mean Peter."

That made Nathan's chest ache in an entirely different way.

"You want to save the world," Castiel went on. "You're just going about it by the wrong means. And we both know what you need to do to change that."

"…I know," Nathan said, softly. He did. It just… wouldn't be easy.

"Good. Look at me."

The request – was it a request? – came as a surprise. But Nathan turned, which left him very much face-to-face with the angel. And that… made him feel light-headed and heavy at the same time – and so much more so when Castiel raised a hand and trailed his fingertips down the side of Nathan's cheek.

"Save the world," Castiel said. "And be saved yourself."

Nathan felt his breath catch. He nodded.

And in a blink, a heartbeat, the angel was gone.

Silence.

Silence.

Then Nathan Petrelli turned back to the window… and despite the glare of the city, now he could see the stars.

And across the fabric of reality itself, beyond the world, beyond existence, the Forces of Hell raised their curses to an endless, blackened sky.

Another seal was locked shut.


End file.
